Time Forgotten
by northestwinds
Summary: Hermione has settled into the mundane goings of working at the Ministry since the end of the war. When Kingsley makes her an offer she cannot resist, the bookworm of the Golden trio finds herself going undercover at a nearby Quidditch tournament. Will she uncover the masterminds behind the magical creature slave trade before she is exposed? *I do not own Harry Potter Series*
1. Chapter 1

Hello everyone! This is my first fanfiction in the Harry Potter category and will be an eventual pairing of Hermione Granger and Viktor Krum. I do not own the Harry Potter series and all rights are reserved to the wonderful J.K. Rowling. Thanks for taking your time to read to this and I look forward to your feedback.

 ** _Time Forgotten_**

 **Chapter 1:**

Hermione pushed the remainder of her finished papers into the appropriate slots before giving her empty desk one last look. She had worked here behind this small desk in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures since the end of the war and passing her N.E. . She had accomplished so much from behind this desk, yet the time had come for her to leave. Progress demands a steady hand, and Hermione Granger was proud to see it through… even if that diligence was now requiring her to step out of the comfort zone of her office. Slinging her messenger bag over her shoulder and picking up the box that held all of her books and photos that had once decorated her small office, Hermione began the long walk towards the entrance as she recalled what brought her there in the first place. Kingsley, her superior in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, had called her to his office yesterday after she had submitted yet another proposal for house elf welfare requirements. As usual, he hadn't wasted time in getting to the point.

"Miss Granger, we both know that I don't have the resources to bring your proposal into action right now. Even if I could get the right people's attention to get the ball rolling, I haven't the time to see it through with the number of cases flooding the aurors."

"With all due respect sir, these issues need to be addressed. The house elves are only the beginning of the project proposals I have submitted for your consideration. Surely there must be something I can do to help you move them along to the right people?" Kingsley stopped and thought about it for a few moments as a plan began to form in his head.

"Miss Granger, did you really score straight O's on the N.E. ?" Not understanding why Kingsley would ask some such a question out of the blue, Hermione scrunched her nose up in surprise.

"Yes sir. I also passed the mediwitch exam, the concealment and disguise exam, stealth and tracking exam, and pretty much any other wizarding exam out there. Granted I only scored an exceeding expectations on the defense against the dark arts n.e.w.t…."

"I know that Potter and Weasley have called upon you to assist them with their work before... I want to offer you a deal. Currently, I have a case that requires some undercover work and have no one well suited to do it. I know under normal circumstances you oversee the Department for the Regulation of Magical Creatures, but if you took the case, I can guarantee your introduction to some of the high profile members of the legislative body. Should you befriend them, they could easily assist you in moving any of your proposals forward. I would get the intelligence auror I need for a case and you would make connections to call upon once you finish the case. It would be a win, win situation." Hermione frowned as Kingsley paced behind his desk running all of the variables mentally. Yes, his plan would work if only she would agree. According to Lupin, she had outright rejected the offer to become an auror at least twice before though.

"What about my job at the Department for the Regulation of Magical Creatures? I can't just up and leave them so suddenly." Kingsley felt ecstatic that she was considering his offer. Granted he could have pushed her proposal through to the legislature, but without any political backing it was bound to fail. Her ideas had merit, but to make them reality, she needed to step out from behind her desk. Politics requires networking to see ideas to fruition.

"You will need to resign from your post temporarily as you work the case. I will ensure that your work will be seen to in your absence and that you can reclaim your post, should you still want it, afterwards." Hermione thought over his offer as Kingsley sat down behind his desk. He could see the metaphorical gears turning in her pretty head. Weighing the risks with the possible gains, Hermione saw no alternative. She could stay at her post raising her fist against the wall or she could take a chance at progress. Even if she failed, her post would be there to return to. Did she really want to spend another few years sending up proposals that were ignored?

"I accept your offer," she said quietly as she folded her hands demurely across her lap. Her piercing brown eyes focused on Kingsley as he nodded. He opened up a desk drawer and pulled out a file. Tossing it on the desk in front of her, Hermione picked it up and opened it before her. Images of famous Quidditch players greeted her and she felt herself swallow in sudden nervousness as memories assaulted her.

The only professional Quidditch player she knew personally had been her date to the Yule Ball and her penpal up until their brief encounter at Bill and Fleur's wedding. As they had shared a single dance at the wedding, Hermione had explained how she could no longer keep writing to him. It was too dangerous with how things were going and she didn't want to put him in harm's way. Viktor had frowned at her as he pulled her closer. He asked her to come away with him, to simply leave the war behind and return with him to Bulgaria. Apologizing to him, she had stepped out of his embrace and gave him a small regretful smile. She couldn't leave Harry and Ron to fight alone. The tense moment between them was broken when Kingsley's patronus landed on the dance floor and chaos erupted as death eaters attacked. As Viktor reached out for her, Hermione had slipped away with her boys and disapparated without a second glance. They hadn't talked since, though she had heard rumors that he had become a skilled auror in Bulgaria during the war and had settled back into Quidditch once the league begun again.

"I'm not sure how much you follow Quidditch, but there is a major tournament beginning up in Scotland in a few days' time. We have reason to believe that the tournament is being used as a cover for a magical creature slave ring. Your task will be to infiltrate the ring, discover where the creatures are being held, and figure out the heads of the operation so we can bring them down. The tournament officials are bringing on several mediwitches for the tournament so I will make arrangements to get you in. I trust that you can make yourself unrecognizable and hold your cover without any assistance. You can still choose to not accept if you aren't comfortable Hermione. I won't think any less of you," Kingsley said quietly as he saw her brow furrow as she read over the packet.

"When do I start?" Closing the file, she tucked it under her arm. She would have to closely read over everything later before burning it all, as per auror procedure.

"I'll have your resignation papers in place by tomorrow morning. Clear your desk tomorrow and go home. I will send my patronus with additional details by night fall."

Hermione felt the wards close behind her as she started walking towards the stairs. The smell of dinner cooking from the kitchen and the faint blare of Irish rock music from upstairs told her that both of the boys were home. Despite both of them having girlfriends, Harry, Ron, and Hermione had shared a flat together since the end of the war. They always seemed to feel more at ease living together, even if the threat of death eater attacks had become minimalized. Ginny and Harry had made their relationship official during all of the press coverage at the end of the war, but Harry had yet to pop the question. The boy who lived and took down Voldemort was surprisingly more scared of marriage than the dark arts. On the other hand, Ron took advantage of his fame to be with a different woman each night and as such was rarely home. Last she had heard he was back with Lavendar Brown in an open relationship. Hermione didn't like the limelight and when she was forced to be in it, she would promote her causes. It didn't take long for the media to get the message and leave her alone. With all of the scandal between Harry and Ron, there was no need to bother with the brains behind the Golden trio.

"'Ello Hermione, how was work today," Harry called from the kitchen. He stirred the pot of boiling marinara before tossing the strained noodles into it.

"Work was good. Thanks for asking. How was your day," she called back over her shoulder as she carried the box up the stairs.

"Swell. We finally caught up to that group of trolls that had been harassing the Muggle community west of here. Dinner is ready. Would you mind calling Ron down?" Opening up the door to her room, Hermione set the box on top of her full sized bed in the center of the room. Towers of books and parchment made the room a labyrinth to navigate, but Hermione felt at home in the mess. The bookshelves that lined every bit of wall space possible were crammed with books. The boys liked to joke that she simply lived in her own personal library. Closing the door to her room, she went to knock on Ron's door. The music cut off and Hermione called in that dinner was ready before walking back downstairs.

The three of them sat around the table enjoying the meal that Harry had prepared. Cooking without magic was a hobby that Harry had picked up after the war, one that he shared with Hermione when their schedules allowed it. When Harry and Ron were gone on auror duties, Hermione would see them seldom, but it was always lively when they were home.

"So how long will you be home before you have to leave for the next mission," Hermione asked as she finished clearing her plate. Reaching for the chocolate pudding, she neatly dodged Ron's attempt to get to it first. He would have voiced his complaint if his mouth hadn't already been stuffed with garlic bread.

"Kingsley has Ron heading over to Romania in a day or two to meet up with his brother. Apparently, they think some of our British death eaters might be hiding out there so he's going to investigate those claims. I'm going to be working some domestic cases here in town for the next few weeks so I will be home in the evenings. I might even take a few days off to go up to Scotland with Ginny for the European Quidditch Invitational. You know how she gets about the Harpies."

"Oh," Hermione said as she thought about her own imminent travels. Kingsley had explicitly told her to tell no one about her assignment or temporary position change, but she couldn't just leave them in the dark. It would be better to tell them what she could now than have to explain later after being missing for several weeks. If this case was even going to take several weeks. For all she knew about Quidditch, it could be several months. "Well I will be leaving soon for a business trip up north. I probably won't be around much."

"What another one of those house elves rights protests," Ron joked with a sneer. Hermione frowned at him and rolled her eyes. She knew just the way to throw his interest.

"No, Ronald. I got invited to a conference of sorts. I'm not even sure how long I will need to stay yet since I don't know if the frost giants can come down with the weather they have been having. The centaurs will surely be there as well as the mer people, but how we are going to sort the arrangements so all of the delegates will be comfortable I'm not sure yet. And the acromantulas-"

"No need to talk about it 'Mione. You always go on and on about these things," Ron interrupted her. She could see his mind thinking back to the giant acromantulas he and Harry had faced while she was petrified in their second year. Hiding her smile with her napkin, she excused herself to do the dishes. The thumping on the stairs shortly later and the resume of the music upstairs told her that Harry had traded dishes night with Ron. Bringing in the last of the dishes and putting away the leftovers, Harry tried to continue the conversation.

"It sounds like you will have quite the assortment of magical creatures. Has the ministry taken enough precautions to keep you safe?"

"Of course, of course," Hermione murmured as she quickly worked through the flatware, "I'm sure it will be over in no time and I can submit my report back to Kingsley on the matter."

"Do you think Ginny would be surprised if I got her tickets to the Holyhead Harpies vs. Vratsa Vultures matches?"

"Matches? I thought in tournaments they played one match and the loser was eliminated?"

"Oh no 'Mione. The European Invitational is a best of seven matches tournament. It will take several months to go through all of the teams and announce the finalists competing for the European Quidditch Cup." Harry finished cleaning the counter tops as Hermione finished the dishes. She felt her mouth pull into a firm line as she realized how long she was going to be gone unless she took care of the ring quick. Kingsley probably had a replacement mediwitch for when she was ready to pull out with the necessary information. Harry noticed the sudden tension around her as she put the last dish in the rack and turned off the water. Before he could ask what was really going on with her, she seemed to startle at something she saw in the living room. Excusing herself before he could get a word out, he saw her scoop up a patronus and run to her room. Shrugging it off as that time of the month for the single girl, Harry headed to his room to polish his broom stick.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2:**

Emma Black was the last name on the mediwitch list for the tournament, and therefore the last to arrive for the opening ceremony. She had thick, straight hair that matched her namesake, and piercing blue eyes that startled all those who saw her. Gifted with a willow frame that was blessed with curves in the right places, she was indeed alluring, but still subtle enough to blend into the background with the right opportunity. However, subtle would not be the correct word to describe her entrance through the stadium passageways. Walking with a confidence that mimicked a feline on the prowl and dressed fashionably to flaunt her assets, anyone in her way was drawn into staring at her. Quidditch players that had lingered after their physical exams were asking who she was and no one had the answer. Flipping her hair over her shoulder, she gave a saucy smile towards some of the boys before opening up the door to the main infirmary and closing it behind her. Outside the door, someone voiced what everyone else was silently thinking: "She's a mediwitch!?" The coaches who had watched her pass felt their hearts drop with the realization that there would be many more "injuries" this tournament if she was going to be on the mediwitch staff. Nobody present would ever suspect that the flirtatious beauty who had passed them by was the studious bookworm of the Golden trio. As far as records could tell, Hermione Granger had mysteriously disappeared from her third class cabin on a train heading north shortly before the pureblood elitist Emma Black arrived at her first class cabin on the very same train.

Once inside, Hermione wasted no time in introducing herself to her fellow mediwitches and getting her placement chart from the stack. Looking it over carefully, she noted that the schedule was for a two month timespan, but the side note below warned that based on performance certain mediwitches would be asked to stay through the final matches. A tall, bulky man lumbered by Hermione's shoulder and she felt her attention drawn away from her schedule towards him. Looking back over her shoulder at him, she gave an indifferent sneer as he gave her a hungry look over.

"You must be Miss Black. I have heard all about you," he said offering a meaty paw for her to shake.

"I'm afraid I haven't had the same pleasure. You are?" Offering her hand, he bent over to place a kiss a top of it rather than shake it.

"Edgar Nott, chief of tournament staff and distinguished member of the board of directors. I hope you find the schedule to your liking. It took me quite some time to arrange it once I heard you were coming. Not all of the mediwitches are lucky enough to find such accommodating circumstances." Indeed, Hermione had noted that the entirety of her schedule was in the surrounding area. From what she understood of the tournament, most of the games would be held here, but there were a certain number of games that would have to be held elsewhere. The mediwitches assigned those matches would be expected to travel with the teams to the new game locations. Giving him a confident smile, Hermione retracted her hand from his.

"I'm blown away by your kindness Mr. Nott. I'll make sure your efforts on my behalf are in not in vain."

"Think nothing of it, my dear. The legend of your skill precedes you. We are honored to have a mediwitch of your caliber attending the tournament. If you will please excuse me, I need to rally everyone together so we can head to the pitch for the opening ceremony. Do get changed into the mediwitch uniform quickly. They are over there," he said pointing back at neat piles of black dresses she hadn't noticed. Politely excusing herself, Hermione grabbed a dress that looked to be in her size and stepped behind a curtain to put it on. Folding her own clothes into the pouch she always carried at her waist, she slipped into the ankle length matron gown. For a garment she was sure would kill any sense of feminine appeal, Hermione was surprised to see how well it moved with her. Using magic to tighten the strings around her waist and tie them into a bow on her back, she stepped out and joined the others forming two lines at the door.

Mr. Nott called the group to attention and began handing out the badges that would give them stadium access. After handing her the last badge, Mr. Nott led them out to the pitch where Quidditch teams and their personal staffs were waiting for the ceremony to start. Hermione's eyes glossed over the crowd noting people from Kingsley's file as she took her designated seat on stage beside the officials who would ref the games, members of the board of directors, and the ministry officials in charge of maintaining order. As the ceremony was called to order, the fire was formally lit in the European Quidditch cup and placed in the stadium lobby so that all could see it. When the winners were announced in three months' time, the fire would go out and the cup would be given to that team. Officials dragged the ceremony out with speeches, and Hermione found her eyes repeatedly returning to one particular Quidditch player sitting with the Vrasta Vultures.

She had known he was going to be here, but that didn't make seeing him after all these years any easier. Viktor's dark hair was still cropped short, but not nearly as short as it was when they were together in school, and his brown eyes watched the proceedings with an attentiveness that Hermione was lacking at the moment as she readily compared him to her memories. His nose still had that slight crookedness to it giving him a youthful appearance, but it was obvious he had become a man in her absence. Even from her seat she could see how he had grown into the frame of his body with lean muscle. Part of her yearned to see her old friend and catch up on the time lost between them, but the risk was too great. He was the only one here that could blow her cover, therefore she needed to avoid him like the devil.

 **"** **Hey Viktor, check out that mediwitch. She's pretty hot."**

 **"** **Sergei, you know I'm not interested. We are supposed to be paying attention to the ceremony, at least try to be attentive so Coach doesn't make us run extra drills tonight."** Sergei put an arm around Viktor's shoulder and turned his head as if he was watching the tournament official speak as well, but instead continued whispering to Viktor.

 **"** **How many years are you going to stay hung up on that British girl? We all know that you stop by her house with flowers every time we go to Britain for a match."**

 **"** **But he never speaks to her or leaves the flowers, just stands outside the house staring at it like a star-struck fool. If I hadn't already seen you in the shower room Viktor, I would say God did not bless you with any balls,"** Igor chimed in from the other side of Viktor without removing his eyes from the official at the stand. Viktor rolled his eyes at his teammates, but was cut off by Ivan speaking up from the other side of Igor.

 **"** **I would rate her 8 out of 10 and she is totally eyeing Viktor."**

 **"** **She's totally a 10 out of 10! How can you ignore those legs? Respect the quality,"** Sergei chortled quietly.

 **"** **8 out of 10 in the mediwitch uniform, but I bet she would be a 10 out of 10 with nothing on,"** Igor added. Even though he was married, that didn't stop him from rating girls with the others. However he typically didn't give a girl higher than a seven out of ten, unless of course the girl happened to be his wife. Letting his eyes slide from the official to the mediwitches, it only took a moment for his eyes to catch on the blue eyes staring at him. Raven black hair fanned around her shoulders, matching the frumpy black gown that she somehow made appealing. Her fair pale skin and delicate wrists gave the impression of a sheltered flower, but the way she sat told of a worldly confidence. Holding his eyes for a few moments, her cheeks blushed a twinge of red before looking away at the official. She was indeed very pretty, but then again so were many of the fangirls that chased after him. She was no different than the others really, he reasoned silently, only Hermione was different. Only she ever saw him for Viktor, not Viktor the star seeker of the entire Quidditch league. Ignoring the others chuckling around him, he turned his attention back as the British Minister of Magic stood up to do the closing speech.

Hermione walked slowly down the road from the stadiums back to town after changing out of her uniform. While Emma would have argued that she should apparate or floo to her new home, Hermione gave herself permission to relax and walk there. It was a beautiful afternoon in the wild Scottish countryside. Rolling green hills covered with occasional bunches of wildflowers meshed with the chortling creeks that scoured the land. A glistening of sweat covered her brow as the sun kissed her with its warmth and she moved a hand to wipe it away. The sound of incoming broomsticks from behind, made her look back. Quidditch players from different teams flew overhead happily taking advantage of the free air to fly without worry of muggles nearby. Climbing over the last hill, she spotted the village below teaming with wizards and witches preparing for the tournament.

Hermione's new residence was located in an affluent ward of the village and covered in every sort of ward and charm possible to keep it undetectable. The entrance to her flat was hidden in an alley off of the busy market street and doubled as the rear entrance to the local Irish pub. The door would only open to the hallway of her apartment if they spoke the password before yanking open the door, otherwise they would walk into the pub. Opening the door to her residence, Hermione wasted no time in closing the door behind her and walking down the long narrow stone hall to the set of spiral stairs that led to her apartment. In many ways the stone stairs reminded her of going up the stairs in the astronomy tower. Stepping off the stairs, she put her key in the lock and let down the inner wards so she could enter before everything locked back up. The flat was sparsely decorated with the essentials that she needed to live there and keep her cover. Natural light flooded in the many one-way windows and gave her a wonderful view of the market street below. Pulling her shrunken suitcase out of the pouch at her waist, Hermione wasted no time in unpacking and putting everything away. After all, she was supposed to be meeting her fellow spy at The Bloody Bludger in an hours' time.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3:**

Well known for having some of the best whiskey around and a charm to prevent fans and media alike from entering its private backroom, The Blood Bludger was the rowdy Scottish bar of choice for most Quidditch players when in the area. Flashing her mediwitch badge confidently to the doorman guarding the entrance to the backroom, she was pleased when he let her in with only a second glance. Hermione wasn't surprised to see the dark stone walls covered in Quidditch tapestries and framed pictures of various teams that had frequented the establishment. Several brooms were hung in a place of honor above a roaring fireplace and a small band was starting to play a jig from its corner perch beside the dance floor. Here without the pressure of fans and media watching, famous Quidditch players unwound from the days stressors and enjoyed a pint with their teammates. Cozying up to the crowded bar, Hermione ordered a beer to tide herself with and found a small out of the way table to wait for her comrade.

 **"** **How many more guys do you think she will turn down tonight,"** Sergei commented with a nod towards the girl at the corner table **, "She is only half way through her drink and at least five men have approached her."**

 **"** **Perhaps she is waiting for someone,"** Igor threw in before taking another gulp of his beer. Ivan put back his shot of firewhiskey and slammed the empty glass onto the table. He had had a rough night at practice and it hadn't taken him long to start doing shots. Igor clicked his tongue at the youth knowing he was going to regret this decision later.

 **"** **She seems a bit put out that all of those boys keep approaching her. Look, even that Irish Chaser is getting ready to go over. Maybe we should offer to let her sit with us while she waits,"** Sergei suggested. His English was definitely the best of this teammates and he could translate as needed. As Igor began to tell him that they should leave the pretty little woman alone, Ivan slammed another empty shot glass onto the table and stood up.

 **"** **I will get the girl before he or any other Irishmen bothers her,"** he spoke loudly as he puffed out his chest. The Irish had taken a number on Igor at the World Cup some years back and the stubborn keeper had yet to recover some of his pride. Ignoring Sergei's and Igor's protests, Ivan started walking towards her.

 **"** **That damn fool is going to get his ass handed to him!"**

 **"** **This is going to be quite the show,"** Sergei smirked as he took a sip of his beer. It seemed most of the single men in the room were now watching his approach to the young witch with weighted interest. Stopping in front of her, Ivan clicked his heels together and bowed deeply.

"Good evenin' Miss. Sorry to bother you. I was wonderin' if you wouldn't mind talkin' to me for a moment," he said in broken English. Appraising him wearily, Hermione felt herself warm slightly towards him. The way he greeted her so formally reminded her of Viktor and the rest of the Durmstrang students she had seen marching past her during her fourth year of school.

"Ivan Cristov, keeper for the Vratsa Vultures, correct?" Nodding his head nervously, he stood at attention and grasped his hands behind his back. "What can I do for you Ivan?"

"I noticed you were being bothered by some of the buzzards flying around here and wanted to offer you my company to keep them away."

"I can handle them just fine on my own, thank you. I am supposed to be meeting someone here to discuss English literature." In the case details she received, Kingsley had mentioned the presence of another spy working the case. They were to meet here at eight and would know each other by the use of particular Latin phrase from the famous English poet Wilfred Owen. It was well past eight and all the people who had approached her had simply been looking for a promiscuous sort of rendezvous. Maybe the other auror couldn't make it…

"I don't know much bout English ma'am, but my friend Sergei is well versed. Perhaps you would like to chat with him while you wait? He is sitting over there with Igor Grinin." Letting her eyes dart past him towards the table he had approached from, Hermione saw the amused and worried expressions on his two teammates' faces. Wondering if that was her cue, she smiled warmly back at Ivan.

"Perhaps if it is just for a moment…" Hermione stood and Ivan hurried to bow again before offering her his arm. Gently wrapping her hand around his arm, she let him escort her across the room to the table where Igor and Sergei sat in shock. Standing at her approach, both men bowed to her and introduced themselves and their positions in broken English. Offering her hand for them to kiss, they kissed her knuckles before sitting back down.

"Emma Black, pureblood heiress of the noble Black family and mediwitch for the European tournament. Hopefully I never have to see any of you in my office," she joked as they laughed gently, "Ivan here was telling me that you might know a thing or two about English literature."

"Anything he says was well intentioned lies to get pretty girl to safety," Igor said with a thick Russian accent. Clapping his hand on Igor's back, Sergei smiled at her.

"I know a thing or two about English literature. What be your fancies, Miss Black?"

"I've been recently thinking over some of the great British poems on war. Perhaps you might have a suggestion for me?" Sergei's playboy smirk told her that he had more than a few suggestions for her and that he wouldn't mind showing her every single one of them. In the back of her mind, she wondered if Ivan had just been trying to bring her back to their table to impress his friends. If the other spy didn't show up by the time she finished her beer, she was going to head home. It had been a tiring day and Hermione longed to curl up with a book in front of the fire.

"Dulce et decorum est (Sweet and fitting it is)," he said as he cockily looked down at her lips and then back at her eyes. Hermione was careful to not let her surprise show at the offered phrase and wondered how long he had been sitting back here with his friends watching her, evaluating her ability to keep her cover. This meeting could have been done and over with a while ago if he had just approached her himself.

"Pro patria mori (To die for one's country)," she interrupted and finished for him before returning him a lukewarm smile. The forward way he was trying to flirt with her across the table made her want to roll her eyes.

"Care to translate," Ivan asked with interest as he sipped the last of his firewhiskey. Hermione had the feeling he had finished the small bottle by himself from his lopsided smile. It must have been easy for Sergei to manipulate him into approaching her unknowingly.

"My guess, he tried to woo her in Latin. Told her how beautiful she was and how they should leave the two of us here to the drinks," Igor said with a wistful smile towards Ivan. The keeper looked a bit put out, but he shrugged.

"It wouldn't be the first time he took one out from underneath me," Ivan replied with a sexy smirk and wink towards her. Hermione balked at the inference, but kept her reaction to a prideful disinterest.

"If he had tried such nonsense, I would have put him in his place," Hermione replied with a dry superiority. The exclamations from Ivan and Igor reminded her of howler monkeys as they mocked her subtle threat. Sergei's smile just widened and he nodded his head in a short bow.

"Lady Black is much too good for me boys. I would have to buy all of Sofia's libraries to hold a candle at a chance of impressing her." Smirking wickedly at his comment and the irony of his words, she raised her glass in salute.

"It's good you already know that. I can only imagine how many times I will have to beat that lesson into the Quidditch players that visit my office." Roaring in laughter, the men tried to one up each other.

"May I sign up as the first for one of your 'beatings,'" Ivan air quoted with a lopsided smile.

"Aye, sign me up as well. Can you work a wand as well as that tongue of yours? I swear you took down half the men in the room with that alone."

"Those boys just needed to be redirected, that's all. If I ever encountered a true threat, I know my wand work can speak for itself. You might even consider giving me your back in a fight," she mocked. Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of an owl dropping an envelope to each one of the boys. Cocking an eyebrow in indignation and curiosity, Hermione waited as they opened it.

"It seems the first match has been decided. Coach has called for practice at the crack of dawn." A resounding groan came from all three men. Wrapping an arm around Ivan's shoulders, Igor delivered a sound thump onto his back.

"Well it seems we must be off. Ivan here needs time to sleep off the hangover that's coming and my lady will be expectin' me."

"I have to head out as well. Though perhaps you would agree to meetin' me some other time for coffee. As friends of course," Sergei offered up as everyone stood. Finishing their drinks and slamming the empty glasses onto the table, they left their money on the table for the barkeep as they slowly exited the bar.

"I'll consider your proposition. I'm not above sharing a cup of coffee if it is among friends." Smiling cockily at her in victory Sergei gave her a brief handshake and apparated away with his friends. Hermione slipped the small envelope he had slipped into their handshake into her pocket and began the walk home.


End file.
